Through Their Eyes
by TheWonderfulShoe
Summary: As promised, a chapter-based reconstruction/adaption of the series geared toward an older audience and with a stronger focus on emotional context. (See my first oneshot, "You're Wrong," if you need an example.)
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Quest for Camelot or the books on which it was (very) loosely based!

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**A/N: Hello everyone! After a request from a reader (lfassmann) who reviewed my story "You're Wrong" (which delved into the inner thoughts of Garett when he gets hurt), I decided that I would continue this, as I had once thought I might. It's over a year later I originally wrote and published this...but it didn't seem very popular, my real-life situation got quite busy, and-well, better late than never, right? In any case, this will likely be semi-AU and fairly emotion/thought-centric.**

**My idea with this is to adapt the story back for an older/more mature audience and spread it out to make it seem a little smoother and more believable from an emotional/psychological perspective. I do not know if I will succeed, given that I'll likely be writing this at crazy hours and on very little sleep due to the insanity of life and medical school. So far, I'm not particularly pleased with this first installment, for instance.  
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**I'm doing this to relax and enjoy writing again-something that isn't really a focus in my current studies. You're welcome along for the ride, and I hope you'll share your thoughts, feelings, and other responses with me through comments or messages-feedback can only make me better!**

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**Chapter 1: Prologue**

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It was a dark afternoon. Even just an hour past midday, the skies were already near black. The rain was falling, not hard and heavy, but persistent enough to soak anyone to the bone. And for two miserable travelers, this was exactly the case.

The unpaved roads were muddy, and the tired horses flicked their ears uncomfortably in the wet and snorted unhappily. It was one of their long days of riding, which they had tried to alternate to give the horses some rest on the long journey they had undertaken. The younger of the two companions patted his horse's neck with compassion.

"There, now, boy...we've almost arrived."

"Right you are, Arthur. Very close, now...are you ready to face your destiny?" The old man asked gravely, making the young boy shift uncomfortably in the saddle. When he answered, he didn't look up at his companion.

"Of course. Soon, we'll know, one way or another."

"I already know."

"How you can be so certain baffles me entirely."

"Have faith in an old man, Arthur. There is much to be said for life experience, and you should know to respect your elders." He sounded serious, but Arthur knew it was said as an affectionate tease, and smiled wryly down at his saddle.

"And a little magic?" Arthur asked, innocence obviously feigned.

"Perhaps. But not even magic can give me this answer. Some things, old men just know in their bones." Lightning struck in the distance, and Arthur's horse whinnied, starting slightly and skittering a few steps.

"Whoa, there!" Arthur pulled at the reins with a strong and practiced hand, patting the horse's neck half to comfort the beast and half to be ready to grip in case of the worst.

Merlin just watched on, grave as ever. Not for the first time, Arthur suspected the old wizard had some arcane connection to or power over animals. Even just on this journey, Arthur had learned and noticed things that he had never seen before, where the old man was concerned. No matter how long he knew the wizard, there was always something new to take him just as much by surprise each and every day...

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***~*~*~*~*~*MILES AWAY*~*~*~*~*~***

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"Pacing there outside the door won't help a thing, now, you know. Come inside with Auntie before you catch cold and kill the lot of you with disease." An old woman insisted. Hair drenched, the miserable man hesitated, turning back when he heard another anguished cry from the door. He looked ready to break the door down, and hang propriety!

A hand touched his arm. Startled, he turned and looked down into the wrinkled face of the old woman who insisted on being called "Auntie" by all of the people in the small village. She looked compassionate, but firm.

"Come inside. What you need is a cup of tea! The midwife knows what she's doing. After all, I taught her everything I know." Auntie Aldith's daughter was the new midwife in the village, after the elderly widow found her old joints aching and poor back hunching too much to continue. Lionel didn't want to obey her, but knew better than to resist. He allowed himself to be led into her small home, but was harder to force into the one chair by the fire.

"Really, Auntie—you sit here. My nerves won't take it."

"You mean your pride won't take it, because you look at poor Auntie and think she's an old hag!" Lionel was shocked by this language, and denied any such thing, but was soon maneuvered into the chair with a hot cup of tea. And before he knew it, Auntie had worked her homespun magic on him, and time had escaped him. A knock came on the door, and Auntie's daughter appeared.

"Forgive the intrusion, Mother-but I thought your guest might want to see his wife and newborn babe." The words hardly left her mouth before Lionel was out the door and back to his own home, calling back a quick thanks for tea in a very improper way. Josoca, the young midwife, looked shocked, but Auntie Aldith cackled with mirth. When her daughter didn't look so happy, though, she turned to the younger woman.

"Well, then? Out with it, girl!"

"It's his wife..." Jocosa started, sounding sad.

"...oh, the poor dear." Aldith said, already knowing what was coming.

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***~*~*~*~*~*A FEW HOURS LATER*~*~*~*~*~***

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Lionel stood at the edge of a bed where a tired women lay, half-lidded eyes full of love and adoration, fixed on a swaddled bundle in his hands. She sighed, and Lionel looked to her with concern.

"Juliana..."

"I'm fine, Lionel. Truly. It's normal for a woman to be tired after these things!" She sounded so sure that he had to fall silent, a gentle finger stroking his infant daughter's cheek. "What will you name her?"

"I'm not sure. I was thinking something related to Katherine. It's a fitting name for a firstborn daughter, but it just isn't quite right." Suddenly, the woman choked back a sob. "Juliana!"

"I...I must tell you. I was going to tell you later, after I had some time to recover, but…there will be no more children."

"She was...certain?" He wasn't sure what else to say. His mind was reeling, the possible future he had imagined for their family and his future heirs dwindling before him.

"Almost entirely." Juliana muffled her tears with the bed-sheets covering her, waiting through the shocked silence.

"...then she will be all the more precious. Our Kayley." Suddenly, through the darkness of the rainy, late afternoon, a bright light washed over them through the window, causing his already-fragile wife to cry out in terror. From a new reflex he never knew he had, Lionel turned, back to the light, shielding his child from what seemed to be danger. But in a moment, it was gone, and he was standing back up, staring out the window.

Gently, he placed the infant into his wife's arms, and went to a standing wardrobe.

"Lionel...!" She sounded alarmed.

"Juliana...for your sake, and the sake of our daughter, I have to go see what that was. It is altogether too close for comfort." Calmly, he pulled on mail and buckled on his own sword. He came close and quickly kissed his wife, lingering momentarily. He then pulled back the fabric covering the baby's head and kissed the top of her head, gently, reverently.

"Come back to us, Lionel. Promise me it won't be a long parting." Juliana called out, anguished, as he left through the door to get his horse from the stables and food from their stores.

"Fare well, Juliana, and Kaylee, my daughter. Expect at least a letter by a fortnight. I will let you know where I ride, and my blessing is upon you!" The door swung closed with a solid sound.

"Be safe, my husband." Juliana whispered at the door, and wept to herself as she fed the babe.


	2. Chapter 2: Prologue (A Continuation)

**Disclaimer:** I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Hello again! Since I last wrote, I have finished a block in medical school, had my computer crash, mailed it in, and borrowed an old laptop temporarily from a family member to hold me over in school until mine is fixed! Mine is under a year old, and this is the second time something has gone wrong with it...but I will try not to let technology issues keep me away for long, now! Thank you for reading my imaginings of deeper back-story and emotional insight. Because the last part was abrupt, I will continue it here. Not what I had originally intended, but hopefully not too bad!**

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**Chapter 2: Prologue (A Continuation)**

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"And that's how you met King Arthur?" Kayley asked, bouncing lightly on her small bed, full of soft, fresh straw. Lionel chuckled and gently steadied her by the shoulders before smoothing her hair down affectionately.

"Be still, my daughter, or we'll need to remake your mattress sooner than I'd like." the father instructed. Kayley nodded, chastised, and settled with swinging her feet. "But, yes, Kayley. When I went toward where the light had shone out like a pillar toward the heavens, I found a young man and an old man."

"And you knew he was to be king!" Kayley interjected, drawing a more hearty laugh from Lionel.

"In fact, my daughter, he was green and younger than I would have liked!" Kayley seemed shocked at this, but Lionel reassured her by continuing. "But he was regal in bearing, with the strength and bearing of a leader, even so young! He had not the proud foolishness I might have feared from such one hardly across the threshold of boy to man!"

"And you swore to him, didn't you, Father?" prompted the young child.

"I did, Kayley-you know I did! For that is how I became a Knight of the Round Table...and I begged my liege give me leave to return to my wife and newborn babe-"

"That's me!"

"Yes, Kayley, that was you. And King Arthur said I could go, and I promised to be back whenever he might need me."

"And did he ever need you, Father?"

"Oh, yes! You might not remember, but I was gone time and time again to help stake and defend the ground for the castle before it was finished, and to drive bandits and dangerous men from the old paths and new roads, and to spread the word and safety of our new king over the land!" Lionel smiled wistfully at the memories, for he had experienced great things and made bonds with the other valiant Knights of the Round Table...but he been gone more than he might have liked, during that time.

Still, his people were loyal and strong, and Juliana was strong enough and well-loved enough to keep everything running smoothly in his absence. With more safety, the lands were better-sown, and the crops were more bountiful, the tradesmen more prosperous. He ached for his lands and family, but his efforts were for them, to make the new kingdom safe and successful, that they and all their descendants might forever live in peace and security.

The thought kept him strong for nearly three years with hardly a scant week or fortnight home between the months on expeditions and assignments from the king. He patted his daughter's head, lost in thought, and grateful that these days, it was more often a scant fortnight or two off serving the king each year, and the rest of the months back helping his lands and its residents to prosper and live in the peace and justice of King Arthur's reign.

"And, Father...will I not meet the king, someday?" Kayley asked hopefully. At that, Lionel smiled, tilting her face up toward his own.

"What have I told you on this matter, Kayley?"

"When I'm older." she answered glumly, looking down with a frown. Lionel kept his amusement to herself.

"Do not sulk, my daughter. You will meet the king when you are older, and you will know the Code and other things you might need if you want to serve him."

"And I shall be a Knight of the Round Table!"

"Or if not, certainly a Lady of it." Lionel laughed back to his daughter, and then he kissed her forehead. "My blessing upon you, my child. Now, sleep." Obediently, Kayley snuggled into her blankets and closed her eyes, only to open them just before her father closed the door.

"Father?"

"What is it?" Lionel asked, not willing to allow her to stall and stay awake.

"Why must you leave again?"

"It has been ten years, since our king took reign. With bandits and outlaws chased away, and the kingdom prosperous, we are going to take stock and divide the lands to make sure one of the Knights is always watching over every part of the kingdom." Lionel answered from the door.

"But don't you all have lands already?" she questioned, confused.

"We do, yes. But as it is now, our lands are uneven, and some parts of the kingdom's borders have nobody to watch over them as regularly as one's own lands, which now we must take turns to patrol. The king, in his wisdom, wishes to prevent pockets where those who desire lawlessness and injustice could hide and thrive."

Kayley gasped, pulling her blankets more tightly around herself, imagining bandits and murderers hiding in the shadows of overgrown side-roads. She shuddered, wrapped in the safety of her covers. She wished she had never asked!

"Do not fear, my daughter. With the influence evenly spread, we will keep order and assure that the peace and justice of King Arthur's realm is provided to all those who live within the borders of our kingdom."

"Long live the king!" Kayley squeaked, and Lionel laughed again.

"Long live the king." Lionel agreed. "Good night, my daughter."

"Good night, Father." Kayley murmured as the door closed, already half-asleep. When Father left in fall, perhaps Kayley would be old enough to go with him, this time. A whole season's length will have been added to her ten years, by then!


	3. Chapter 3: One Farewell

**Disclaimer:** I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Hello, my readers! Because I am in school, I don't make promises about a schedule for updating. However, I would ****_like_**** to update at least once every couple of weeks. In fact, my ideal minimum right now would be to update once per week.**

*****NOTE: This chapter has been lightly corrected. You can put the beta into an author's shoes, but you can't take the beta out of her, I suppose. I couldn't bear it as it was. ...as a warning, this may be a common occurrence, as this goes on, I'm afraid. The woes of formatting in the FFnet system is almost enough to merit it even if my writing had been perfect.  
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**Chapter 3: One Farewell**

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They would be coming any day, now. Every afternoon for the last fortnight, they had ridden out to the hills and crags to look for any signs of fellow Knights of the Round Table approaching. Their (current) lands were some of the closest to King Arthur's castle, which is why Lionel's trust and loyalty, as one of the first to arrive, had been so important to the young king.

It also meant that many of the other Knights had left long earlier, and should be riding together in groups along the roads, surely to meet somewhere near to them as they trekked toward Camelot to respond to the summons of their king. Thus, the family's daily rides having an extra purpose, as of late.

Kayley trotted ahead giddily around the steep-edged cliff, her mother nervously giving her reminders and warnings to be careful, go slowly, and watch the ground. They finally reached the safer, grassy slope of the foothills, from which they could look out to see the road ahead. This was the direction from which they expected the Knights of the Round Table to come, and the area where they would take their lunch on the crisp, clear autumn day.

Lionel helped his wife down from her horse before going to catch his excitable young daughter, who sprang fearlessly to him from her pony. He held her aloft, playing, before allowing them both to collapse to the ground. They rolled some feet down the slope through the dying, brown grass, laughing merrily. It was these moments that Sir Lionel thought he could live forever, just within his own lands.

Just _once_ more, Kayley asked if her father _really_ had to go. As always, he affirmed that he did, reminding her that the king's knights would soon arrive. So just _once_ more, Kayley asked to hear the story of how and why her father became a knight. Her mother tittered about pestering her father, when she had heard the story so many times! Lionel reassured them both, though, that it was fine. He held a soft spot for his young daughter, his only heir, with the heart of a knight despite her tiny, little girl's body, which he could hold up in the air over his head with just his hands spanning across her stomach.

As they ended their story and their lunch, Kayley spotted men in the distance. They wore the same insignia on their shields as her father, and bore mail and steel. The Knights had arrived. Juliana insisted that Kayley return with her to prepare for guests while Lionel rode down to greet them. They would spend the night and part of the next day, resting and restocking supplies, before riding straight onward to Camelot.

The night was an exciting one, full of food and merriment—and a stern and sudden bedtime, once Juliana decided that the men had enough mead in them to be merry enough to forget that a young lady was present. Kaley was unhappy, of course, but Lionel assured her that he needed her to get her rest so she could help them in the morning. It was very important to get out promptly, and they would need all the help they could get.

The following morning, Kayley helped to prepare some supplies and some meals-good, fresh meals that would have to be eaten immediately and couldn't be packed in saddlebags. These were meals they could use to try to stretch out the comforts of a well-stocked home for at least their first few days on the road. Juliana knew better than Kaley how the Knights would savor them.

Juliana, Kayley, and a host of well-wishing villagers from Sir Lionel's lands rode with the Knights of the Round Table as they headed toward the foothills once again to leave their lands. And as they said their farewells, and started to trot down to the gates, Kayley nudged her little pony into a gallop after them, yelling that she was coming, too. Sir Lionel yelled back that she would, yes-when she was older. And before his voice faded out of range, he yelled back a promise, for someday.

He always expected that he would fulfill his word-after all, a night doesn't give his word lightly! He imagined the day he would take his daughter, a little more grown, and present her at Court. She would go as his daughter and assistant, learning the politics of the realm. He had plans for Kayley-or perhaps _with_ Kayley...his blossoming beauty of a daughter with the heart and inner strength of a Knight. She was not like most young girls. He knew she would be something greater...and he was already proud, as he imagined some extra details for their plans to pass his time riding away from his home.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be.

Every day after, Kayley still rode out, after her morning routine: eating and conversing with her mother, doing simple chores, completing her lessons, and practicing sewing. Months passed—and that was even more reason, in her eyes, to go to the crags and look for signs that the Knights of the Round Table were heading back toward their own lands...signs that her father had returned.

Unfortunately for the young girl, the day that she saw the Knights marching her way in the distance and galloped home to get her mother didn't bring the news she had expected.


	4. Chapter 4: Two Returns

**Disclaimer:** I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Hello, my readers! I hope that my corrections didn't startle anyone or falsely raise any hopes. A special thanks to Skeedoodle, who probably doesn't even realize that I noticed the new Story Alert-but it made a difference: it gave me the push I needed to finish and post this chapter, given my recent illness and exam!**

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**Chapter 4: Two Returns**

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When Kayley and her mother rode, properly dressed and presentable, to meet with the Knights of the Round Table, they were surprised at the size of the entourage. They dismounted at the top of the foothills as the first few men rode up. Kayley was excited, and ran ahead into the riding figures, despite her mother's attempts to quietly stop her—Juliana was old and strong enough to realize that something was amiss, here. She knew there were not so many Knight of the Round Table in all the land, let alone just the parts beyond their own.

"Kayley!" she cried, heart already starting to feel with dread. But the child had run ahead, calling for her father, unaware of the meaning of the stony faces of the men riding past her, refusing to meet her eyes. She gasped, seeing the reason for the many extra men: King Arthur had ridden with them.

She froze, seeing his guard and his shining crown—he was dressed in all the formal finery she would expect of a king. Somehow, the fact that this would normally be out of place for the road, even for a king, escaped her as she stared, dumbfounded. She started to bend into her lowest curtsy, but froze halfway down. She had seen something dreadful.

"Father!" she cried, her manners forgotten and her youth and grief plain. She ran forward to the long, sled-like plank being pulled by the horses. He was still and stony, positioned into the traditional repose of the dead, shield over his chest. The men leading the horses pulling him continued, and she ran after it, sobbing.

Suddenly, strong arms grabbed her and pulled her up. A man, taller than her father and just slightly broader, had grabbed her from the ground. She sobbed, not thinking of her safety, because the man who had lifted her was a knight. He planted her firmly in the front of his saddle, and somberly swung up behind her, delivering her back to her mother.

"I am sorry, Lionel's Daughter, for your loss." he said softly as he lowered her to the ground, but she hardly registered the sentiments as she ran and pressed her face into her mother's skirts, sobbing. The Knight who had rescued her was not like her father in many ways, but _did _share some similarity in temperament and gentleness as Lionel. He had liked the man, and grieved for his widow and orphan as he rode back into formation.

The king demanded no such thing, but Juliana—as strong and noble a woman as one might have expected to win the affections of Sir Lionel—demanded that the comfort and hospitality owed to their liege and sovereign be paid in full. The feast was scrumptious, if more somber than might otherwise have been expected. As nervous and overprotective as she could sometimes be with her only child, her inner strength and will shone through her grief and relieved some of the worries that the knights who never knew her had feared.

Kayley cried herself to sleep that night even through all her mother's soothing, after the ladies of the house had excused themselves for bed. In the privacy of her own bedroom later, Juliana permitted herself to do the same.

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***~*~*~*~*~*THE NEXT MORNING*~*~*~*~*~***

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Early in the morning, the sun was rising, and Juliana was sober in her mourning garb, and little Kayley looked younger than ever, draped in a mourning dress that was too large for her small frame. It had been made a little big, so it could be taken in if needed or out as she grew...but the sudden need for them had left no time for them to be fixed, since they fit without dragging, at least, though the sleeves were slightly too long, and the collar a bit large. The length was long, for what it was meant to be...but since it didn't go to the floor, that would be fine. There were more important arrangements to deal with, if it was wearable.

They rode solemnly out to the selected place. The ground was too frozen to cut, so they would have to leave her father in a stone coffin that had been prepared long before, in case he died on one of his missions for the king. The symbol of the realm (that of King Arthur, also worn by the Knight of the Round Table) had been carefully cut into it by the village mason overnight, in an act of loyalty and devotion to the man who had watched after them all with kindness and a fair hand.

The services were dry and boring. The priest was saying things and doing things, and Juliana watched with a serious face and dry eye, though the lines in her brow gave away her true misery. Kayley ran up and brushed a hand on the stone after her father's rites were done and as King Arthur began to speak. She knew the stories. Her favorite stories, of her father's goodness and loyalty. While at any other time, she would have listened to the story from the king's perspective in awed silence, clinging to every word...she was too sad. She ran to the well, and cried softly to herself, not wanting to disrespect her father or her king by interrupting the funeral, but stricken with grief.

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...far across the land, back in Camelot, an old wizard with a falcon perched on his arm watched on sadly while a little boy was similarly afflicted.

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***~*~*~*~*~*TEN YEARS LATER*~*~*~*~*~***

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Kayley was strong for a woman, though lithe and coordinated. Through the years, remembering her father's promises and holding on to her dream, she trained her body like a knight would—without fancy equipment, she practiced swinging farming tools and aiming pitchforks instead of broadswords and javelins. She ran often, and tested her balance and coordination with increasingly difficult terrains...but her mother kept her close to home.

It was a source of endless frustration—she was ready to be presented to the king! She wanted to join his service, as her father before her! But Juliana, relying on her help and fearful of losing her only remaining family and child, always found reasons to hold them on their lands. Kayley longed for the day her mother would _finally_ take the king up on his open invitation. In honor of her fallen father, the king had decreed that the gates of Camelot would _always_ open to Lady Juliana. It would be _so simple_ for her mother to send word they were coming and present her daughter to the king!

So _why wouldn't she_?! Kayley began to wonder if she would _ever_ step foot off their lands...

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***~*~*~*~*~*IN CAMELOT*~*~*~*~*~***

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King Arthur was giving a speech to summarize the last ten years. As he always did, during their meetings, he remembered Sir Lionel, whose chair at Arthur's right hand, as always, sat empty. For all his strength and bearing, he still sorely missed his first and most trusted Knight of the Round Table. As many soldiers, his friend had given his life in service to his kingdom...and, as weighed most heavily on Arthur, to his king. As he branched into the business of the lands and their peacekeeping and patrolling efforts, though, a sound like a cannon split the air, and rubble began to fall.

Some of the younger knights, a few taking over for aged or deceased predecessors, flinched and jumped. Arthur didn't begrudge them the surprise, but froze like the older, more experienced knights. A gryphon was descending through the destroyed dome of their rotunda! Arthur slowly began to reach for Excalibur where it hung ceremoniously on his chair, but the intelligent beast saw his movements and deduced at last where its target was.

In the blink of an eye, it had attacked, slashing the king's arm and yanking the sword free. Knights yelled and clambered onto the table, Almost as quickly, it was gone, despite the king's best archers shooting after it with flaming arrows. The knights were rushing to Arthur's aid, but as they tried to lift the wounded king into his chair, he pushed them away sharply with his good arm, yelling for them to find Merlin and retrieve the sword!

Mere minutes later, a long-bearded elder was at the top of the keep, on the walk where the guards watched nightly, despite the long peace. A few on-duty guards were startled by his sudden appearance-he gave off an air of swirling energy and intensity that wasn't expected in such an obviously aged man. It seemed uncanny-_unnatural_, even-and they were frightened. Merlin paid them no mind.

He raised his staff and made motions with his hands, and something _felt_ different to the men standing, watching, terrified_. God, protect me!_ One man prayed, _If I survive, I will go to mass each day and pray penance each night!_ They were in no danger, but the arcane was not to be trifled with. To have lived so long with his gift, Merlin had been forced to accrue incredible control and abilities, and the ordinary men on the tower with him were unfortunate enough to come upon him in an instance where he could not hold back as usual. They would not be harmed-but they would not leave unaffected.

_**"Silverwings...protect the**_** sword!"** His voice sounded no louder than a healthy man calling clearly-but somehow, it _persisted_, and _echoed_...though nobody down below heard the sound of his voice, they would forever swear on their mothers and grandfathers that it had boomed even into their very skulls, forcing its way _in_, and _through_, and across the land. Far in the distance, they thought they heard a raptor's cry.

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***~*~*~*~*~*THE NEXT MORNING*~*~*~*~*~***

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All able Knights of the Round Table, minus a protective force for Camelot itself, were sent outward in every direction to begin their search for the gryphon and the sword. The heralds and scribes were given an order by the king, who was pale and weak with loss of blood and deep tears into his stronger arm, muscles nearly cut from the bone.

The apothecaries had thought he would lose it, but Merlin locked them all out, and when they returned thee hours later on his orders, they found the old wizard near-fainting, and the king out cold...but his arm obviously attached, though his wounds were still grave. He ordered them to tend to the king as if it were a normal wound of such seriousness, because there was no more he could do...and then he somehow managed to hobble past them, and was not seen again for days.

Following their orders, the heralds and scribes set off the emergency signal chain, blowing the horns from one tower to the next, and then building the first fire for the smoke signal. Once the signal began to be repeated from the nearest alert towers, they set off to deliver the messages they were to carry in person-one to each landholder, and a few to certain individuals.

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***~*~*~*~*~*MILES AWAY, HIDDEN*~*~*~*~*~***

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The man gnashed his teeth, waking after a dream reliving a frustrating old memory. His plans, concocted and enacted over ten years, were _finally_ coming to fruition. He heard the alarms blowing the pattern that announced an emergency with an upcoming message. Truthfully, he had expected it sooner—it was nearing nightfall, and the attack had been planned for the night before.

But then, they _were_ pretty far removed, out here. It was a pity, really, that this land didn't have a Knight-Protector, these days. It was a pity that Sir Lionel had refused to serve a new king! The man might have lived and prospered under him—his bullheadedness and determination to hang onto current ways led him to label any challenger to the throne a "false king"...but _he_ knew the truth! It was Arthur whose reign was stagnating the lands! It was time for somebody new to take power-and with his plans falling into place, that was _exactly_ what he intended to do!

Ruber had returned! ...and it was _high time_ that Lady Juliana took advantage of that little _invitation_ he'd heard she had received...!


	5. Chapter 5: The Dilemma

**Disclaimer:** I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Hello, readers! I am so sorry for how long it has been. I had a family emergency when I otherwise would have had a week to work on writing this, and then my block at med school was winding down. I have forgotten neither you wonderful readers and reviewers nor this story! I can promise you that if I do decide to discontinue it, I will make note of it, not just drop off the face of the earth! Special thanks to ang4133 and IrisOdona1359, whose reviews helped encourage me and keep me determined to get back to this. I have been really flattered that a steady trickle of people seem to be following or favoriting this fic—wow! But you readers who have stopped and taken the time to review, sharing thoughts, criticisms, or appreciating things that appealed to you...just know you hold a special place in my heart!**

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**Chapter 5: The Dilemma**

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At the sound of the alarm horns, Kayley look up to the sky. Against the dimming sky of the nearing twilight, she could see the starts of smoke. At the towers, they would be signaling the message. Half an hour later, she was running in to the house, breathless and flushed from exertion. She hurried into her mother's chambers, where a seamstress from the village abruptly halted her work measuring in shock.

"Kayley! By the heavens, what is the matter?" Juliana asked, also quite startled by the sudden entrance.

"Excalibur has gone missing! Surely you heard the horns blowing an alarm! I read the message, and the heralds will, no doubt, be here in some days! We must be off at once to present ourselves to the king and offer our services!" Kayley insisted, red cheeks showing no small amount of excitement.

"Be calm, my daughter!" Juliana insisted, already composed once again, herself, though the news was grave indeed. "This is no matter for a young lady such as yourself. The Knights of the Round Table have, no doubt, already set forth to reclaim the sword. We can best serve the king here, keeping order and watch over our lands to make sure word can be sent if any choose this time of seeming chaos to move against the kingdom."

Her mother's words were wise ones—Kayley knew that having lands somewhat removed meant that they had special duties in keeping watch over their borders and alerting Camelot if any should mount a breach. But after years of crushed hopes and expectations, Kayley felt bitterness well in her chest, not to be able to serve the king more directly. She wanted the life her father had promised she would someday have! She should be doing his memory honor, serving the king however she could, if she could not serve in her father's place at his right hand!

"You shirk your duties to our liege-lord and king! I should have been in Camelot, ready to help from the start, with the Knights—I would have been, if you had not retained me here like a caged animal instead of presenting me to King Arthur years ago, to replace my fallen father as a loyal vassal!" The seamstress gasped, paling, before trying her hardest to stare only at the dress on her lady and ignore the family spat and her mortification at seeing it.

"Kayley!" Juliana was shocked, but Kayley had already run out the door, both mortified at her outburst—and in front of the seamstress!—and disappointed _once again_ in her hopes to go serve the king in Camelot. For just a few blissful moments, she had thought that her time had come, and she would soon be able to fulfill her and her father's old dreams and expectations. That she would finally be presented at Camelot and fill the debt owed by her family to provide a new vassal—even if she wouldn't be Lionel's _son_. Her father had seemed confident that, as a young girl, she was equal in wit—and perhaps even fortitude—to what he would have expected in a son her age. Would he have been disappointed, to see her now? ...she would never know.

She went back to the stables to check on the horses and their personal milk cow. She halfheartedly pitched some more hay into their stalls and then went to double-check the chickens, just to kill time. A few hadn't given any eggs that morning—and perhaps it was good that she checked, because one of them _had_ laid one, since. She took it easily, planning on bringing it in to put in the larder in the kitchens herself, but dropped it as the sharp point of a spear pressed into the side of her neck, and a rough voice addressed her...

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***~*~*~*~*~*BACK IN THE HOUSE*~*~*~*~*~***

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Juliana was back in her regular clothes after her fitting, straightening a hanging tapestry in their main receiving hall inside the entryway. She was hoping that she would be there when Kayley came back in, so they could sort things out. They clearly needed to have a serious chat. On the one hand, she was Kayley's mother, and deserved the respect and obedience allotted her position as both her mother and the Lady in charge of their lands.

As footsteps approached the door, a slight frown passed over her face. Stomping...? Was Kayley still cross about their earlier exchange? The girl was stubborn, but being foul-tempered was unlike her. She turned to the door, ready to face her daughter...but the door swung open harshly, banging loudly, and the person who entered was certainly _not_ her daughter!

A cloaked and hooded man entered along with several brutes. Juliana was too distracted to notice that they were slightly _different_ than normal men. Holding back panic, she stood tall. When she addressed the intruders, her voice was clear, firm, and filled with confidence and authority.

"Who enters a noble house so brazenly? Show your face!" At her orders, the man reached up and pulled his hood back, revealing a face she had seen only a few times, briefly, but would never forget. "_Ruber_." she spat, as if the name were a curse. It might as well have been, in that household.

"Juliana. How good to see you. I heard about the panic, and felt it was my duty to check in on the widow of an old _friend_. These lands are vulnerable without a lord to rule them." he noted, smirking as he approached her, slowly. His underlings laughed in low, stupid voices, not following the intricacies, but understanding she was being mocked for their invasion.

"We have fared well, these last ten years. King Arthur is good to his _loyal subjects_." she emphasized angrily. Ruber's smirk became more of an angry grimace, the slightly maddened man not realizing his expression was slipping.

"Too bad, _indeed_, then, that he has so recently _lost_ the source of his power and authority, isn't it? How _fortunate_ that someone like myself was nearby to check in on you, after all!" he spat, then smiled again and grabbed her chin softly. She pulled away from his touch, sickened. "It would cost but a kiss for me to take these lands under my favor. And for a little _more..._I could even assure you of their protection." At the implications, Juliana steeled her nerve and slapped him.

"Impertinent pig! Leave _immediately_! You offer nothing we want!"

"Well maybe _you_ have something to offer _me_!" Ruber snapped back. Before Juliana could reply, he went on, "Even I have heard of the _deep_ respect that King Arthur has for Sir Lionel's _poor widow_ and _orphaned child_. If you were to bring your wagons to Camelot, the gates would be opened without question! The perfect way for me to smuggle in my _delightful_ warriors...aren't they _magnificent_, Juliana?"

Juliana gasped, noticing for the first time how the arms of the men before her melded straight into weapons and other dangerous tools. She paled, even though she stood firm.

"I refuse. I will not betray my king."

"Will you then betray your own _daughter_?!" Ruber snarled, banging a mailed fist on the wall. More steel-armed men dragged Kayley in, struggling all the while. Ruber drew his sword, pointing it first at Kayley, and then at Juliana. "The choice is yours, _my Lady_. You _will_ ride to Camelot and smuggle my men into the walls in your wagons! Or else..." he trailed off, slicing through the embroidered image of a young Kayley in the fine tapestry on the wall. Juliana squeezed her eyes and fist tightly, before uttering three words with all the strength and nobility of her position.

"...I will go."


	6. Chapter 6: The Escape

**Disclaimer:** I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Hello, again! Much faster, you must admit! ;)**

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**Chapter 6: The Escape**

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Ruber and his men had passed through the village that night and the next day, spreading terror and oppression. They secured the surrounding area to make sure no word could get out. Then they made a systematic pass through the village homes and huts and captured a sizable group of young, able-bodied men—and even a few older ones. They brought the men to a deep pit that had been dug and partially filled with water from the well. Juliana paled, forced to watch, restrained along with her daughter—neither of _them_ had been harmed, thankfully...so far.

Juliana was starting to see that Ruber had gone somewhat mad, in his time in the wilderness, and he had continued making disgusting suggestions about her—and occasionally, about Kayley. This worried Juliana more than anything else. She tried to hold his attention when he addressed the two of them. Thus far, he had not yet ordered them separated, though he had threatened it.

The day was ending again, and Ruber gave a surprisingly charismatic—if frightening—speech about the captured men lending their service and being stronger, better selves, if they would only follow him. After taking of everyone's stores and crafts, Ruber's small band of brutes was almost entirely outfitted and supplied for the journey to Camelot. They would be leaving in the morning. Juliana calmed only slightly—so he _wasn't_ going to kill her vassals, just conscript them. She hadn't _fully_ failed them, yet. But then he announced the next part.

This group would be part of his army, his elite warriors of steel and sinew. He took a potion—the origins brushed over, though it was apparently some unholy magical concoction—and threw it into the pit of water. And then he grabbed the first young man. A metal-armed man—was that a pitchfork on each hand?—brought forward an axe. As Ruber pushed the young man—the oldest son of the town carpenter, and a man engaged to be married—into the pit, Pitchfork-Arms threw the axe in as well.

When they pulled him back up with the help of a ladder made of chains, his hands were deadly axe blades, and his eyes were dead and empty of reason. He seemed to rouse slowly as the group of captured men dwindled, being replaced by empty-eyed monsters...but he never even responded to his fiancée's sobs and cries. It was as though he were half asleep.

Ruber ordered a night of feasting, to celebrate their upcoming victory. The brutes and monstrosities who had come with him—and were noticeably more alert than these new "recruits"—cheered sluggishly. Apparently they would never have full faculties with their metal hands. Juliana imagined that Ruber quite preferred it that way—nobody would question him, nor would any of them note his madness and try to stop him.

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***~*~*~*~*~*AFTER NIGHTFALL*~*~*~*~*~***

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There were bonfires, and a cow and two pigs had been slaughtered. The men were ravaging the stores and herds that were meant to last the village through the winter. At least the village people were being fed—albeit at sword-point. Ruber did not take kindly to the old woman who declined meat, saying her gums were too weak; after he backhanded her, then barely allowed Jocosa to run up to tend her, nobody dared refuse him again.

Kayley and Juliana were left out of these festivities, and did not know if they would, in fact, be fed at all. Ruber had not bothered to give them more a few mouthfuls of water apiece while the pit was being filled, ordering one of his minions to hold the bucket for them so they could drink when they started to look like they might faint. Beyond that, he had mostly ignored them, except to remind his goons to keep hold of them. Juliana was not against losing his interest.

As the night wore on, dancing began, and a number of the village women were manhandled into joining to "even the balance"—it seemed that Ruber had enough control that it would not get further out of hand, though. At least for the time being. The young carpenter's fiancée was silently crying as she was led through the steps and passed to the next partner in the circle during a popular folk dance. Her future husband sat slowly eating a roast slab of meat, not seeming to recognize her at all despite the pleading looks she sent him, as if he could interfere. The other metal men were taking turns getting the meat.

And that was when a mistake happened. The guard taking a turn watching them was one of the newer ones, still responsive almost only to orders from Ruber and general tasks like eating and drinking. He scratched his head while watching the dancing men, rocking from side to side, before getting distracted by a bite of meat caught on the sharp edge of the long dagger he had for a hand. As he struggled to maneuver the blade to his mouth, _he let go of Kayley_.

"Kayley." Juliana spoke softly, hardly more than a whisper, but with all the poise and authority she had in her. "Go—_go now_! Be careful as you leave, and then take the main road once you pass the crags and gallop to gain a head start. Hide as best you can. It is three weeks to Camelot, but you _must_ get there before us and warn the king. The kingdom will be safe...and so can our vassals." Kayley sobered at the thought—if they invaded the city, their people, enslaved against their will, would be slaughtered along with any who joined Ruber willingly. She hesitated just a moment, though, at the thought of leaving her mother in the evil man's hands, knowing what might happen to her when Ruber discovered her escape and unleashed his wrath; it was bound to be terrible, for he was mad and long in waiting for his revenge.

"Mother..." she objected softly, giving her a pained gaze.

_"Go now!_ It is the moment of truth—will you serve your king and people, or not?" And with a clench of her fist, Kayley ducked though the bushes, and made her way to the stables. She took their fastest horse, one that was a little slow and unruly, but that she could usually master. She grabbed no provisions, knowing the horse could graze, and hoping she could find something edible along the road. If not, she would reach the next village before she starved. She had no money on her, but she was still wearing fine earrings and a family ring. If she had to sell it, it would have to be—she would try to come buy it back when there was peace again in their lands.

She walked the horse around the outskirts, trying to remember where she had seen the guards leaving to go get meat and mead. She walked the horse down the rocky hills, trying to stay in grass as much as possible...but when she was passing through a natural tunnel in the rock, trying to stay out of view, she came to a sudden halt. Footsteps were approaching.

"I saw you in the distance and came out to meet you. The warning signal said Excalibur was missing. The initial strike on Camelot has gone as planned?" It was Ruber. Kayley's heart froze at the ominous question. But then, as the strange, hardly-human voice responded, _hope_ began to swell in her breast. It had been Ruber all along, yes—and Excalibur was _stolen_, not missing—but _they had failed_! Ruber was raving.

"A gryphon, defeated by a mere _bird_?! If you have betrayed me, you useless cur—" a terrifying sound between a screech and a roar split the air. It was all Kayley could do to steady the horse, gripping its snout tightly closed and hoping the roar itself had covered up the whinny. It seemed that it had. She blew gently into the horse's nose, petting it and trying to keep it still.

"I know my fate, _human_—until this bond is severed, I _will_ serve you! But be warned, _do not cross me_! My bonds won't last forever, and a gryphon lives many times the years of a mere mortal like yourself! If you want some _useful_ information, it is this: _beware the falcon!_ It was _no ordinary bird_, that stopped a gryphon! It is a powerful familiar, a falcon with unnatural silver wings, the likes of which few humans have seen—_beware!_" Kayley was almost afraid the gryphon would shriek again, but instead, she heard flapping and thought she managed to muffle the nervous snuffling of the horse decently well.

She _had_ to move forward! How soon, until she was missed...?! She walked briskly with the horse after Ruber's footsteps faded back toward the village, but she had only gotten another mile or two down the road when she heard yelling in the distance. Fearing the worse, she swung up into the saddle, just in time to hear Ruber yelling for them to get horses and _find the girl_! Kayley took off at a gallop, and Juliana strained to see from where she'd been dragged with the readying half-metal warriors.

Powerless in every other way, the noble lady fought back the fear and tears, and prayed for her daughter's protection and safety.


	7. Chapter 7: Flight and Fortune

**Disclaimer: **I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Buon giorno da Italia! Sono le Sette e mezza, e sono in treno.**

**If your Italian is better than mine, you must know that I'm typing this from a seat in a train, in Italy. It's a long story how I got here, and one that has more than one unfortunate circumstance stemming from the family emergency I mentioned months ago in another Author's Note. However, everyone is okay now, at least for the time being, and I am spending these two weeks of my only summer of medical school accompanying my sister here in Italy. It is beautiful, and has nicer weather, though I would have traded the trip to avoid the reason I became the backup travel companion.**

**Still, we live with what reality we have, and the trip has been lovely so far. Since I have a couple of long train rides today and tomorrow, I'm hoping to type out at least a chapter or two on my mobile for you all to post whenever we have internet access; please forgive the mistakes that will surely arise from this! I apologize again for the long waits, and thank all of you who have commented or followed or favorited this story—including those anonymous users whose identities I may never know! Your occasional support has kept this story in my mind and helped me stay determined to write as soon as I could. I appreciated every notification!**

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**Chapter 7: Flight and Fortune**

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It was a terrible night. Kayley was pushing the poor horse as hard as she could; she knew it could not last forever. Her only hope was that this swift horse, with her slight frame and lack of supplies, could outlast the warhorses of the metal monsters. Surely with their intense bulk, their horses would tire or die first? The metal men themselves, she could not even guess whether or not they tired or rested. Unfortunately, there was no room for uncertainty; without knowing if she could count on them to stop and sleep, she had to assume it was a race between the horses. She would have to pray that her choice had been the right one.

All through the night, she heard the noises of the metal men, gaining on her in the distance. As the sky started to pink with dawn, they were close enough that they started shooting toward her. The stupid and unruly horse broke, tired and panicked, and veered off the road, which seemed to have thinned in the night. Unbeknownst to the young maiden, she had forked the wrong way in the dark, unaccustomed to the roads and furiously galloping.

Kayley screamed, despite her usual poise, and had no choice but to cling to its mane as it veered off the road, galloping through the untended fields. Once she gained control of the horse again, she had no choice but to continue, as the metal men were following—the only good to come of the mistake was that the grass seemed to hinder them. She had to press whatever advantages she could, after all! As they galloped past a tree, another projectile came close, and she barely saw it stick straight into the trunk as they rushed onward.

_A bolt! They have crossbows!_ Kayley thought, alarmed. Desperate, she leaned forward and urged the horse on even more strongly than before. It leapt over stones and logs, snorting and fearful, sweaty and lathered; Kayley only prayed that it wouldn't die. Surely the stable-hands had been exercising all of the horses as expected?

As the scrub began to thicken, the dim-witted beast struggled to turn away, and it was all Kayley could do to hold it. The trees became more and more frequent, and the horse finally reached its limits, rearing and throwing the girl before stupidly continuing its panicked run, banking left to avoid the thick brambles into which Kayley had fallen.

Stunned, the young woman lay on the ground for a whole minute before her vision and consciousness, both blurry, faded back in. Her panic helped her struggle to awareness despite the nausea, aided by the sounds of men yelling, metal clinking, and bolts sinking into trees around her. Vision still blurry and tilting, stomach feeling like it could turn at any moment, she clenched her teeth and pulled herself through the brambles despite the pain as the thorns tore at her skin. She struggled through the grasses and shrubs as bolts came toward her; the thudding of them solidly into trees let fear clench her heart in a tight fist as she stumbled and ran.

She could hear them gaining as she fled on wobbling legs. Ten minutes later, an axe hit a tree as she passed. She couldn't outrun them! They cleared the brush and stomped through brambles like grass, unhindered by the wilds of this dark forest. She stumbled, her head spun, and her stomach was only precariously holding onto its contents.

More minutes passed, each seeming like an eternity as the metal men drew ever nearer. Kayley was starting to feel despair as the burning in her chest and limbs told her she couldn't continue much longer, breath coming in desperate gasps...

And then she fell.

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***~*~*~*~*~*EARLIER THAT MORNING*~*~*~*~*~***

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The sky was just touched with the pink of dawn on the horizon...or so he assumed. It had been years since he had looked at the sky. The eternal twilight of the forest was never broken for him; even when he went up through breaks in the canopy, the world stayed dark through his ruined eyes.

No, it wasn't the slight lightening through the trees that woke Garrett; it was the birds who heralded it. His companion was missing—Ayden had disappeared as he sometimes did for a while. Fortunately, Garrett was so in tune with the forest after these several years that he did not need the constant assistant of his feathered friend. He could avoid whatever troubles lurked in the forest and get on with his life well enough alone; after all, hadn't he wanted and expected solitude, when he left Camelot to live as a hermit?

He had left some nets the day before, and today he would check them. Fresh fish would make a good meal—more, if he set some to stewing. Walking along the familiar paths to the pool under the ledges, Garrett determined to set a fish aside for Ayden; it had been a few days, now, and the falcon was bound to be hungry upon his return. If he didn't come back soon, Garrett could always smoke it before it went to waste.

Arriving at the banks, Garrett felt his way carefully. Even familiar as he was, the dirt got muddy and could shift. Ignoring caution didn't save time, but heeding it could save one's neck. Today wasn't a good day to be dead.

Chuckling at his own joke, the hermit eased into the waters, feeling more with his feet to make sure he didn't fall into one of the deeper parts of the pools. He could swim, yes, but anything that fell too hard through particular chasms would almost certainly destroy—

A sharp sound broke his thoughts and caused him to swing his staff up into a ready position. It was a cry from a beast sound far more dangerous and malevolent than those he had expected to encounter that day in the forest.

It was human.

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***~*~*~*~*~*KAYLEY'S PERSPECTIVE*~*~*~*~*~***

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She hadn't seen the exact definition of the rocks or known that the vines there were trying to soak up what little sun came through over the water, where no trees could root. So when she tripped, she instinctively grabbed at those vines for somewhere to hold. Instead of catching herself on them, they gave way and fell with her. Over a ledge she went, vines tangling with her, a cry escaping her lips unbidden before she could stifle it—not that the metal men didn't already know which way she had gone. And not that it would matter if she fell now to her death.

She had hardly cut off her yell when she hit water, sinking almost in a surreal way into blue-green silence. She could swim, in fact; her father had made sure when she was quite young, since their lands had some treacherous rivers and not many vassals, should she fall into one. He had not, however, taught her to escape vines, and she had no knife—not even the ornamental one she usually kept on her person, seized when she was captured by the metal men.

She struggled, trying to keep the air in her lungs and let it help her rise. Her wet clothes and the vines dragged her down, though, and it was only a sudden tugging sensation that helped her find the fortunate handhold she quickly grabbed to pull herself up.

When her head broke the water, she gasped for air, gulping it desperately. She struggled out of the remaining vines, which had mostly fallen around her ankles as she stood on the higher ledge. Looking into her hands, she saw that the twisting something she had grabbed was, in fact, a net. It had probably slowed her fall, in fact, before her tangled form had sunk too deep for escape.

She swallowed, sobered by how close a brush with a terrible death of drowning it had been. But those thoughts were interrupted when clanking metal and yelling broke through the silence, followed by large splashes. She stumbled, trying to run to the bank and out of its depths. Three metal men had jumped over the cliff after her, using their metal limbs to pull themselves up the rock and mud.

Kayley struggled through the mud nearing the banks as she saw them emerge, only to hear a piercing shriek, followed by the sounds of combat. She turned, half-stuck anyway, only to see a man—a man _fighting the metal men_! He appeared to be helped by some sort of raptor, by the screech, who was diving in and out of the fray, occasionally screeching. Kayley hadn't noticed before, but the trees were swishing angrily, without a breeze. A thrill of fear passed through her, hand rising automatically to her heart.

One by one, the man and falcon somehow dispatched the metal men. Kayley tried not to imagine who it might have been of her people—had the butcher's son had a crossbow? Had the axe stuck in the tree looked like the make of the blacksmith who lived over the hill? She offered up a quick prayer for the souls of the men seemingly swallowed by the ground—how it had happened, she wasn't even sure, like a trick if her eyes as the rock and wood slipped over them.

She was afraid to speak, wondering if she had escaped the man's notice; he spoke softly, seemingly to the bird, which had landed on his shoulder, and then bent, mumbling in audibly. A sudden yank had the net leaping from her hands, and she realized it must belong to this man. This man, who had defeated three metal men on his own. This man, who had saved her life.

She took a few quiet steps toward him.


	8. Chapter 8: The Forest Hermit

**Disclaimer: **I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Finished the last chapter on the same day's ride back. Still have some time on the train for today, so might as well keep going! Why mess with a good thing? After all, I write for pleasure—if it were otherwise, I'm sure it would be more often and less enjoyable!**

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**Chapter 8: The Forest Hermit**

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"I give you my thanks, for saving me from those metal men. I have never seen such valiant fighting—you were incredible! You hardly even..." She trailed off slightly, getting close enough now that she could hear him muttering about the ruined net.

"...seem to be listening." she finished her previous sentence, somewhat miffed. What impertinence! What man pays no mind when a noblewoman is talking?! Surely just her dress, even if ruined, and her jewelry should have been evidence of her position? Perhaps he was older than she had thought, and hard of hearing. She spoke a little more loudly.

"You saved my life. Thank you." She spoke clearly, trying to sound her position, despite her wretched appearance and evident exhaustion.

"Everybody makes mistakes, I suppose." Answered a dry voice, and the back of a head of hair, far too richly colored to belong to an old man, came into view as he stood. The back, because he would not even face her. Thrice, then. Thrice rudeness was returned for her gratitude! Frustration and exhaustion combined were not a good combination.

"I find your humor ill-suits me. Perhaps you are a failed jester, exiled from the king's court for such jokes?" She snapped, annoyed.

"Not at all—and now I must thank _you_." He said abruptly.

"Why?" Kayley was startled into near rudeness herself, at the sudden change in attitude.

"For reminding me why I'm a hermit. Good day!" The man answered in that same dry tone, starting to walk away. Kayley, desperate and having hoped to somehow convince this heroic man to join with her, made one more desperate attempt to get the man to listen.

"W-wait, please! What is your name?" she tried, hoping to at least slow him as he left, splashing as she tried to catch up and go around him.

"It is Garrett. Farewell."

"Garrett, my name is Kayley, and I am a noble woman. Surely you could do me the kindness of looking toward me while I talk to—oh!" She had made it around him, now, and he had stopped with resignation, shoulders stiffening against her words. Her face flushed with shame as, closer now, she saw his blank eyes.

"Forgive me, Goodman Garrett. I-I didn't realize you were—"

"Tall? Partially undressed? A hermit and in desire of solitude?" He asked, dry voice now starting to sound annoyed.

"...blind." Kayley admitted softly, trying not to think about the middle one—the man did indeed seem to be without breeches as he waded, though his tunic sufficed for basic modesty. She never would have expected the man to be _blind_, though! The blind old widow back in the village was now a beggar, unable to support herself with her ruined eyes. Kayley had never expected such heroics could be accomplished by a blind man.

"Of course, _Noblewoman_ Kayley—somehow, I always forget that one." Garrett quipped, voice flinty, when a ray of light struck the raptor on his shoulders, revealed with a glint to be a falcon with silver wings. Kayley was so startled that it overshadowed her shame at her insensitive words.

"Your falcon! He has silver wings!" she cried suddenly. After excusing herself again at the unfortunate choice of words, she explained to Garrett what that meant, explaining at his disbelief that Excalibur had been stolen, and that a villainous ex-knight was trying to recover it and get to Camelot to take over.

"Those metal men you fought were his doing as well. I don't know where he got the first, but he captured men from our lands to add to his ranks...after he captured me and my mother."

"Your men joined him?" Garrett sounded shocked and unhappy at this, and Kayley harbored hope that he would help her, after all.

"Not at all...he forced them into water with steel and some unholy concoction. " Kayley explained, miserable, "When they emerged, they seemed half-dead and recognized not even their own wives or families...and were one with the steel. 'Twas a gruesome sight."

"And you claim that this man lost Excalibur, once it was taken?" Garrett asked firmly.

"The gryphon said as much! It warned him of a falcon with silver wings who had interrupted his theft of the sword—he said to beware!" As she spoke, indignant of his distrust, the falcon began to bob and make small noises, rubbing its beak. The man seemed to listen.

"It _is_ here? Then we have no time to lose—we're going after it!"

"Thank you! I had hoped, when I saw how you defeated the metal men—"

"You misunderstand, noble Kayley—I am a hermit. I meant me and Ayden." he explained, lifting his arm with the falcon lightly, seeming almost amused. At her objection, he started to explain how dangerous the forest could be for those unfamiliar with it and its ways.

She struggled to follow his quick, long stride despite her weary and battered body, falling prey to several of the unpleasantries he easily avoided. As she struggled up after him onto the top of a ledge even taller than the one from which she had fallen into his nets, Ayden flew down to her shoulder from the hermit's, nuzzling her gently. She smiled despite her weariness, stroking his head—the gryphon was right, it would seem, about this falcon being magical and unusual. She had never seen such an intelligent animal.

"Ayden..." Garrett seemed surprised, and Kayley looked to him, hopeful that the falcon's approval may have won his. She was soon rewarded by a scowl and grumble of acceptance—with the condition that she not cause any trouble.

She agreed fervently.

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***~*~*~*~*AN HOUR LATER*~*~*~*~*~***

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Garrett's hut was not large, and he did not have much to take for supplies. He had one pack, made of animal skin, into which he put what few food items he had on hand...and a large wine-bladder and water-skin.

"I don't suppose you have one of these, Noblewoman?" Garrett hadn't spoken much, but he turned to her now, holding up the water-skin for reference.

"No. I have nothing—nothing of use, at least." She sounded perhaps almost as miserable and bitter about that fact as she felt. Garrett sighed, but went and got something from under his crude cot. He tossed it her way, and she barely managed to catch it.

"I want that _back_." Garrett said firmly, suspicion evident. "It took me a lot of trouble to prepare that as I wanted it."

"Thank you." Kayley answered quietly, turning it in her hands. Garrett just grunted in acknowledgement, and Kayley tried not to let her annoyance at his constant rudeness overwhelm her civility. She stayed silent as he sorted through his scant possessions, putting some things in his pack and leaving others behind. Finally, he closed it and fastened it tightly.

"The rest, you will have to carry." he said directly, somehow _staring_ at her with ruined eyes.

"In my arms?" Kayley objected, not having anything else to use to haul whatever assorted items he wanted her to take.

"No—in this." he answered, holding up a bag, very worn, but in decent condition. It was not a rough, forest bag like the one Garrett had packed for himself. It was small, and seemed to be made of good, oiled leather, though neglected for some indeterminable length of time.

"It is small, as for a child." Kayley noted clinically. This wasn't a complaint, necessarily—she was scraped and exhausted, and a lesser burden was probably some scant kindness from the rude man.

"I suppose I was one, when I used it." Kayley didn't answer this equally emotionless observation, just turned the bag over in her hands. When she saw the symbol on the metal buckle for the fastenings, however—it truly _was_ a beautiful bag, making Kayley wonder on his origins and station in life before his hermitage—she blinked in both surprise and recognition.

"This seal! Are you—"

"Ready to go? Yes—let's be off." Garrett cut her off, interrupting the question she had been about to ask. "Here, put these in your pack with the water-skin; just keep the skin on top so we can fill them as we go." Kayley was a noblewoman, and well-schooled in etiquette. She picked up easily on how he had changed the subject with such finality.

Despite her frustration with his poor manners, she let the moment pass. He was clearly unwilling to discuss his past; she had to respect that, for now. Her current circumstances allowed her no alternative but to follow his preferences and accept whatever aid she could get from him—at the very least, his help traversing the treacherous forest. She had seen the seal, though, and she knew what it meant; it was unmistakable. The buckle bore the symbol of Camelot.

As far as its hermit-owner, she could only guess.


	9. Chapter 9: Rough Starts

**Disclaimer:** I own neither the movie Quest for Camelot nor the books on which they are loosely based!

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**A/N: Wrote a chunk of this on a train from Firenze to Milano, a chunk in a hotel or hostel in either Milano or Venezia, and some at my place back at med school. I know there's still been a small delay, but isn't this better than before? Some of the errors in this story are frustrating me, as a beta. I took the liberty of updating a few of the chapters, but until I get a better computer and stop using my phone for updates at times, these frustrating little errors will probably continue to be the norm...  
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**Chapter 9: Rough Starts**

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The first hour, Kayley was able to get information from Garrett about the distance from one end of the forest to the other, and from the edge of the forest to Camelot. It looked like she would be able to save almost a week by traveling the forest! One week! Hope swelled in her chest for her mother and her people. She offered a prayer for their safety and pressed onward.

The second hour, she had a hard time keeping up. Her excitement was still in the back of her mind, but the newness of the realization had worn off, and Garrett ignored or hedged her attempts at exchanging pleasantries or polite conversation. She struggled to follow his footsteps and avoid the dangers of the forest he automatically dodged with hardly a thought. Each time she stumbled or got stuck in a trap—such as the vine which seized her ankle, almost causing her to fall—she could feel his scorn as he impatiently freed her.

By the third hour, Kayley's exhaustion refused to be ignored. She tried drinking from the water-skin, even, despite knowing she had to save the precious water. It made her nervous, to be drinking simple water, but the wine-bladder was precious, she knew, and would have to be rationed carefully and saved for need. It would not be her decision to make, either, as neither wine nor bladder belonged to her. The slight distraction of those thoughts, though, combined with the rigors of the previous two days, were enough that Kayley fell prey to yet _another_ of the forest's traps: a snapping flower with vicious teeth swung at her, knocking her over and biting the arm she raised to protect herself. She let out a cry, but had hardly hit the ground when Garrett was there in front of her, easily beating back the monstrous plant until it was still.

"Hurry up—it won't be stunned forever." he grumbled, trudging forward again. Kayley's exhausted legs trembled, arm throbbing painfully where the small-but-sharp row of teeth had punctured her lightly. She had _mostly _gotten out of range, but only a small success was needed for the monster; its fangs were quite sharp! As she struggled to her feet and to keep up again, she heard Garrett grumble to Ayden about the mess he'd gotten them into, insisting on _this woman_ coming along. Kayley's eyes teared with the pain and injustice of it all.

"I never _asked_ to end up here!" she snapped, in a very unladylike fashion. "I haven't eaten in a full day, and I haven't slept in two nights. Would that I had never needed to come to this forsaken place! Between that stupid fanged lichen and whatever other godless monstrosities I passed on the way into this forest, I've been bled and shredded more than three doctors and a barber could have plotted—" her tirade was cut off by Garrett suddenly turning and striding her way. She froze, terrified, suddenly remembering how large and fierce the hermit truly was. An apology was flying to her lips when he spoke.

"That plant. It bit you?" he demanded. She started to nod, before choking out an affirmative reply when she remembered he could not see. "Show me." Equally demanding, he held out his hands, palms up, answering the question she had been about to incredulously ask. She gingerly laid her wounded arm across his hands, trying not to be scandalized when he carefully felt along it down to the hand and up almost to the shoulder, pushing back the sleeve of her gown. She had been examined equally intimately after falls or during illnesses in the past, and for such callous hands—and manners, for that matter—the hermit's probing was not overly rough or painful. She couldn't help but wince when he touched the new punctures or deeper scrapes and scratches from her previous flight from the metal men.

"None are too serious, I know—I spoke in anger." she admitted, unable to meet his eyes, when his hands were on her skin, despite knowing he would not see her gaze.

"You need to tell me when things like this happen! _Those fangs are poisonous_!" Garrett half-growled, and Kayley paled, looking up to his face and _hang propriety_!

"Poisonous?! A-am I—" she stumbled over her words, frightened and already weak from exhaustion, but he sighed and shook his head, cutting her off.

"I have a tincture that overcomes it. Hold still." Garrett instructed, letting go to remove his pack and deftly grab something out of it. "This may burn." he warned, grabbing her arm back again and holding it a little more firmly. Kayley just gritted her teeth and looked away. She had survived worse, she reminded herself; and while it did in fact sting, it was bearable, though she dashed the tears from her eyes with her other hand. It was reflex, she told herself—nothing more. She opened her mouth to say her thanks, only to have a small bottle pressed into her hands. It was carved semi-roughly, with a leaf-shaped stopper.

"I—thank you. What is this?" Kayley questioned.

"It's a salve, made from herbs here in the forest. Drip it directly onto the bites now, and rub a drop over your other wounds before you sleep tonight and in the morning. They should heal in a couple of days." At the shocked silence, he added another comment, still wry, but amused. "Have you forgotten that this place is heavy with magic, Noblewoman? Especially considering your most recent assailant, you would do well to keep in it mind. It can both help and hurt, after all."

A falcon's screech pierced the pause, and Ayden circled down to land on Garrett's shoulder. To Kayley's surprise, the man actually smiled.

"Yes. Quite like Ayden, in fact." Garrett answered. Kayley would have thought he was teasing, had she not witnessed firsthand the uncanny abilities of that particular raptor. It struck her that she _would_ do well to remember that fey magics were steeped into everything around her in this place, and that it _could_ hurt as well as help.

"Have you creature magic, to understand him? I only hear screeching and animal noises." Kayley finally had the nerve to bring up. Garrett paused thoughtfully.

"No. It is not creature magic—I understand only Ayden." She swallowed and nodded, before remembering _again_ and answering out loud.

"O-oh, I see. Thank you." Not surprisingly, Garrett only shrugged and grunted. This conversation after her bite might have been the most he said to her thus far; it was bound to end soon enough, especially when she had run out of more to say or ask.

"Come. There's a clearing up ahead. We will eat, and then set up camp. You will sleep, and I'll take the first watch."

"But we'll lose the day!" Kayley objected.

"The day is half gone, and we'll need to take watches, anyway. Spending extra time now can save it in the long run. And nobody traverses the forest at night." Garrett said simply, as if it were law. Kayley, despite her anxiousness to get on with their travels, had to accept it as such, not that she could tell the hour in the dim, filtered light of the forest. She wasn't sure how _Garrett_ was telling the time, but she didn't dare ask. Besides, she was exhausted and starving, to the point that even the thought of just jerky meat and sleep—even on the ground!—was nearly moving her to tears.

Her relief so overwhelmed her, and his explanations seemed so reasonable, that she didn't stop to question if it was really just because of the approaching night.

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**~*~*~*~*~*~FOUR DAYS LATER~*~*~*~*~*~**

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Days had passed, since she had fled from her captors. Garrett was quiet, and Kayley was feeling the pressure to hurry. She was starting to get frustrated with her companion's rudeness and unwillingness to answer her questions. After days of traveling together, one would expect he would start to at least show her some human kindness, if not respect; after all, she was a noble woman, ripped from her life and forced to flee to save her people, her mother, and her king! She had barely complained, listened when he taught her about the forest—where they were and had next to go, what was safe to eat and how to prepare it—and used these lessons to assist in camp and preparations.

After the first two days of pain and soreness from her flight and injury had passed and she was mostly mended, the endurance she had built up through her crude self-training became evident. Garrett had made not a comment about her more able pace, though he adjusted accordingly. Kayley learned not to comment when, in response to her question about if their faster pace would trim further time from their journey, he simply told her that it would hopefully be enough to earn back the time they lost when she was slow at the beginning. The man had no gentle sentiments about him—he was condescending and unsociable. Sometimes Kayley truly started to feel he was wild, like the animals in the forest—and equally intractable!

He had not spoken to her in over a day, now, to make matters worse. The most she had gotten from him was a grunt when she offered to collect the firewood the night before. He had not joined her in speaking evening prayers, nor had he responded to her polite good wishes for the night. When he didn't answer her suggestion that they stop to prepare food to eat, her patience finally broke.

"Lovely! Thank you. If it isn't too much trouble, Goodman, I'll just leave these things here under your protection while I look for some additions for our meal." She said all this pleasantly, but with the aim to annoy the hard man. She set down the bags noisily in a small pile of leaf litter and crunched off through the trees, though not far from their path. She grumbled to herself, pushing back the guilt at being rude to Garrett. If he wanted things to be unpleasant, she could be selfish and inconsiderate just as well as the next person!

In the distance, she heard a shriek and felt a little guilty for Ayden, who had been scouting ahead for them. She wished she had the skills to trap him a fat mouse, or maybe a squirrel. Fresh meat had to be more pleasant for a wild raptor—even such an uncanny, intelligent one as Ayden! Even Kayley tired of the endless, tough strips of jerky. When she returned to the area where she had stopped, she found Ayden peering with that sharp gaze of his at Garrett, who was grumbling while setting up a small pot over a small fire, looking unhappy. Kayley was almost amused at the thought of the harsh hermit being _scolded_ by a _bird_! She felt a devilish surge of satisfaction to see her ploy to annoy him successful.

The victory was only made sweeter when the falcon flew up to her shoulder and nuzzled her before peering at Garrett again, letting out a shriek that made Kayley flinch from the proximity. The hermit's scowl only deepened, jaw setting, and Kayley held up her arm bent at the elbow, so Ayden could go to her forearm and look at her. His talons were sharp, but he seemed to be trying to be cautious. At his knowing look, the young noblewoman couldn't help but smile. She was barely holding back a giggle of amusement, when the raptor bent down and nipped her finger lightly. Somehow, she had the _knowledge_ that she was being scolded, too.

"I know. But I simply could not help it—I have been so frustrated!" she said softly, trusting the task Garrett had at hand and his sullen mood to keep him focused purposefully _away_ from her. Ayden now gave _her_ one of those scathing looks before fluttering back to a branch near Garrett and his fire. Chastised, Kayley came over to offer her gatherings. "I found a number of mushrooms, some herbs, and a few other things. If I had realized we would have stew tonight, I would have taken more plants." she said apologetically, though she took none of the blame for _that_.

"It was a sudden decision." Garrett answered quietly, and she accepted this, assigning the blame to nobody. They emptied out some strips of smoked meat, Kayley's entire water-skin, and the mushrooms and herbs she had collected. After two days of dry rations once their fresh food had run out, Kayley's mouth was watering at the smell of soup! She offered Ayden the first piece of meat from her fork, but he shrieked and stayed on his branch. She had the vague feeling it was a negative, but she didn't understand.

"Have I offended him?" Kayley fretted quietly to Garrett. "I meant no disrespect." she assured Ayden. Garrett spoke up automatically.

"He simply said he will hunt. It's not a bad idea—we will run out of meat soon, too." Garrett noted, only to glance up wryly with a snort as Ayden screeched again, then flew away.

"What was that?" Kayley asked, curious. Garrett grunted with a nod as he chewed some meat, and Kayley waited in hopes that he meant he would answer.

"He said we should indeed hunt, because he would rather not be forced to share his game." Garrett answered dryly. Kayley was shocked—did the bird have a sense of humor? "I got the impression it was meant as an insult, as though we are helpless as chicks if we need feeding." Garrett added as a side-note.

"Have you always understood him like this? I can sometimes puzzle out the most basic sentiments—often just by watching—but I can't get the messages you can out of his cries."

"No. It was not always so easy." Garrett stared into the fire, looking pensive. Kayley stayed quiet, thinking that was all she would get of the story, given his constant reticence. She was surprised, then, when he continued. "Ayden found me just as I began my life in the forest, as if the fates were looking out for me. At first I heard only screeches, as well, but they quickly started to take on a—a _tone_, almost, as if I could hear approval or warning in them." It was similar to what Kayley heard, now! Would she, someday, be able to understand the falcon, as well?

"Soon I heard sentiments—no, not _heard_, perhaps, maybe more…_perceived_. Now, it's more an _impression_ of his meaning that I get, I suppose. An understanding fills me, and I can almost hear words, if I think back on it, like echoes of a distant memory ringing in my ears." After that last explanation from Garrett, they ate in silence, and washed the cooking and eating tools in silence, and re-packed everything in silence. Ayden returned with blood on his talons and some feathers; Kayley politely refrained to comment on it as he set to cleaning and preening, and they set camp for bed.

Kayley finally broke the silence to say her prayers and wish Garrett a good night and peaceful slumber; he only rolled away from her, not deigning to answer. Annoyance flooded her again as she rolled away, not wanting to even _look_ at the aggravating man across the fire! That mischievous and childish desire to annoy him welled up in her once again, and she drifted to sleep amused with the possibilities she schemed up in her sleep-addled mind.

Ayden would not have been amused.


End file.
